Not like that
by lisarazmotte
Summary: Short but very angsty fic about Nesta and Cassian's time in the Illyrian mountains.


Okay I did a thing. I was inspired tonight, so here's my first, weird attempt at writing some Nessian. It's angsty, it's… kind of nsfw, I guess? and I really don't know if it's any good because I have the most difficult time getting into Nesta's head. But I decided to post it right away because I feel like somehow, this ficlet is not too much out of character, and that's a first for my Nessian writing so it's worth getting out of my computer and reaching you people! Let me know what you think, I always appreciate it greatly.

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She was suffocating. The Illyrian camps were a nightmare, they'd been that way for her since the first day she'd been brought here, a month earlier. _He_ had brought her here, _he_ had instructed every shop in town to not sell her alcohol, and _he_ had scared the men away from her. And he hadn't even needed to say anything for the last one. All the men here considered her his female, somehow, the events of the last battle still stuck in their minds. When her sister had sent her to live here, she'd ressented her, but she hadn't really cared, planning on finding here the same ways of release she'd had in Velaris, namely alcohol and sex. But he had prevented both of those from happening, consciously or not, and now she was suffocating, unable to push back her thoughts, her tears, her… anger. She was angry, that hadn't happened in a long while. But it wasn't good, she didn't want to feel angry. She didn't want to feel anything. She needed to find some way to reach oblivion again, or she would not be able to contain the tears much longer. She needed to, she needed…

She got up from the bed, and was out the front door in seconds. She needed to find him. She crossed the camp, almost running between the houses and the training fields and the shops. Finally, she spotted him on the middle of the main square, his back to her, talking loudly with a few commanders, the red siphons shining brightly against the darkness of his leathers. The anger was like a spear driving her to him, and she ignored the puzzled looks the commanders gave her as she reached for his forearm and pulled on it. He turned to face her and his features changed rapidly from rage to relief, and then to confusion when she pulled again. She turned back and, not letting go of him, dragged him back to the house at the edge of the camp. She heard him call her name, but she didn't care. She heard him ask what was going on, but she didn't answer. After a few streets at that pace, he caught up with her, but she still didn't let go of his arm. In fact, she didn't let go until she was inside the house, up the stairs and inside her bedroom.

She turned to him and without warning, ran a hand around his neck to, got up on her toes, and kissed him. She felt his hands reach to grab her waist and pull her closer to him, and she only kissed him deeper, grabbed on to a handful of his hair to keep him close to him while she backed out until her calves met the foot of the bed. All the while, his hands were still holding on to her waist, and when she let herself fall onto the bed, he followed her. Feeling the weight of him on top of her was exhilarating. She could see the shadows formed by his wings, spread wide above them. She could feel the warmth of his tongue clashing with hers and his hands tracing burning paths on her sides and her waist, but never touching more than that, never reaching to where she needed him. She left his hair to find his hands and guide them to her thighs, and she restrained a moan when she felt them gripping the fabric of her dress to move it upwards, until his fingers were caressing her skin relentlessly. Her dress was midway across her belly when she decided she still couldn't feel him enough, and reached to his back to undo the links of his flying leathers. She brushed a finger against the inside of his wing, and he moaned into her mouth, pressing into her even more than he had been. He left her body the time that was needed to get out of the leather, and soon he was back to exploring her stomach and her thighs, his bare chest and muscled arms covered in sweat. She ran her hands on his wings, followed the line of his spine and reached his backside, pushing him against her core. He groaned, and she felt him grind against her harder. She was moving to his front to open his pants when she felt him break away from their kiss and catch her hand in his before she could touch them.

She opened her eyes to find him hovering over her, his eyes closed, still so close that she could fill his heavy, unsteady breaths on her lips. She rose up to take his lips in hers again, but he moved away, this time opening his eyes to find hers. She didn't know what to read in his big hazel eyes. Was it lust? Anger? Sadness? She couldn't say. But she felt his restraint when he got up to rest on his elbows, his body uncontrollably moving away from her. Then he spoke, his voice soft and low.

"Nesta, we can't…"

No.

She couldn't let him go, he couldn't abandon her.

No.

He got completely up this time, sitting cross-legged beside her, one hand still resting on her skin, the other running across his face. She straightened back up and yanked her leg away from him to rearrange her dress around her body. She turned her back to him. She couldn't bear the sight of him.

"Nes, I know why you want us to do this right now, but…" She felt his hand gently reach for her shoulder. Too gently. Too real. "It's for the wrong reasons. I know it feels like it will, but this won't help you. You don't really want me, it's just…"

"Get out."

"Nes…"

"Get. Out."

She didn't want to see him, didn't want to acknowledge the tears that were filling her eyes and menacing to start falling any second. She just wanted him out of her reach. He started to move behind her, and she heard him get ahold of his leathers and putting them back on. He got up and before she could move away, his fingers were grazing her cheek, pushing back a fallen strand of hair. His hand lingered and his thumb brushed a lone tear that had escaped her. She didn't move away.

He took a step back and before he exited the room, she heard him say in a hoarse, almost sad voice: "I want to help you, Nesta. I truly do. Just… not like that."

She didn't answer, she didn't look at him, and he left the room, closing the door behind him.


End file.
